How's the Diet?
by sherlawkcrack
Summary: Mycroft is back to his old ways, because he simply can't help himself. His nasty habit leads to an abusive relationship, one which he doesn't know how to fix or get out of. He soon gets caught, and things don't look too good for him any more.
1. Chapter 1

It was his first day off work in ages, and Mycroft Holmes sat at his kitchen table, a large Victoria sponge cake placed in front of him, already half eaten. He leaned back in his chair, his stomach bulging in agony. He couldn't eat any more, but the cake was so delicious and tempting that he couldn't help but take another huge bite out of it, licking the jam from his lips with a smack.

"No more... please." he begged, trying to push the plate away from him, but found that he was too weak.

"I know you want more you slut," the cake taunted, deliberately letting its jam ooze from the sponge. "Eat me."

"No... please."

"Just one more bite," it encouraged, batting its jammy eyelashes at the man flirtatiously. "Then you won't need to do this again."

"We can't see each other any more, cake," Mycroft frowned, averting cake's beautiful, thick icing. He couldn't do this. Not any more. He had stopped seeing cake for months now, but he hadn't been able to help himself much longer. Mycroft knew now how disgusting he was, and he was ashamed of himself.

"C'mon, just one more bite. Then it's all over, babe."

"Yes, yes, of course." Mycroft nodded and took another bite of cake.

"Yeah! Keep going you whore."

Mycroft did as he was told and kept eating, his stomach churning horribly and making him feel sick the more he gave in to cake. He was choking, gasping desperately for air as cake shoved further inside his mouth, its words soft and gentle, but actions harsh and rough.

"That's it, Myc. Now lick me."

Mycroft followed the instructions obediently, his tongue darting out and lapping up the jam. His eyes began to water from the force that was being used on him, hating himself and every second of this.

"Mycroft!" Lestrade gasped as he emerged into the kitchen and saw the sight in front of him. "How... how could you!" He ran out of the room, tears spilling from his eyes.

"Gregory!" Mycroft shouted after him, his mood worse. "Now look what you've done!" he screamed at cake, throwing it back onto the plate. "I told you this was a bad idea."

"Forget him!" Cake retorted, anger burning at the interruption. But it didn't matter, Mycroft was already on his way out of the kitchen to follow his lover. "Don't you dare leave me you fucking whore! Come back and love me!" it shouted after him, but it was too late.

Mycroft was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

Mycroft was depressed, Lestrade felt betrayed, and cake? Well, cake was planning its revenge on the detective inspector. Cake was very crafty, you see, so it didn't take too long to think of a cunning plot that would ruin Greg Lestrade for good. It would look like a suicide, because no one would ever suspect cake.

It was before work, and Lestrade was brewing himself some tea to help wake himself up. He didn't want to look at Mycroft. He couldn't.

He went to the fridge to grab the milk, and bright orange icing caught his eye. It was most likely Mycroft's, but he didn't need that fat oaf. He had ate enough already. So he grabbed the cupcake and ate it, wishing he hadn't in the end, because he now felt sick.

Mycroft unfortunately had work today too, so he wasn't long getting out of the bathtub (yes, the bathtub. Even the British Government gets shouted at for being a cheating bag of dicks and thrown out of his own bed) as he made his way downstairs into the kitchen. He stopped dead at the ungodly sight: on the floor lay Gregory Julio Ricardo Montoya de la Rosa Ramírez Lestrade, nothing now but a lifeless body.

"You monster!" Mycroft shouted at cake, who was watching the sight from the kitchen table with a sly, triumphant smirk. The crumbs on his lover's face said it all.

Mycroft started rummaging through one of the kitchen drawers until he found what he needed. Yes, perfect. He wouldn't have to deal with this problem much longer if cake was gone. He couldn't stand it.

"What the hell do you think you're-" cake was cut off as Mycroft began stabbing into the glorious, sweet smelling sponge. Cake screamed out on pain, and jam splattered everywhere; all over the floor, Mycroft's face and suit, the knife.

Soon cake's screams went quiet, and it lay still, not struggling any more or trying to get Mycroft away.

"You're _nothing_ to me." he snarled, taking out a match and lighting cake on fire. He watched the flames burn that once, beautiful icing, until it was nothing but a melted mess, soulless like Mycroft himself.

He grinned insanely and let out a high pitched evil laugh that echoed for all of London to hear. Everyone would know that was his warning. They would know something dangerous was upon them. Yet they wouldn't be able to do anything about it, because not even Robert Downey Jr. in his Iron Man costume could save them. No one was safe.

And that is the story of how Mycroft Holmes became the crazed cake killer of London.


End file.
